


what you wanted

by eustassya



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hurt No Comfort, Hydra Cap, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, angst maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 16:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11062410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustassya/pseuds/eustassya
Summary: “I want to give you what you want, Tony.” Steve’s voice is warm but cold, like looking into a mirror to find the reflection isn’t you. “It’s your birthday.”





	what you wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic for Tony, late as always. You may or may not have to read laireshi's fic first. Whoops.
> 
> The dubcon is really minor, and Tony does verbally say he does not want it, but it's the typical you-say-no-but-your-body-says-yes thing. Heed the tags.
> 
> Unbeta'd as usual.

Steve’s hand is still on his, thumb rubbing circles into his wrist, and the words are playing in his head on repeat,  _ I could pretend to be him I could pretend to be him I could pretend to be him. _ Part of Tony screams no, but a larger part of him wants to say yes, desperate for touch and affection and the thought of  _ Steve, loving him. _ It’s not as if things could get any more wrong, not in this twisted new world.

 

Maybe it’s the effect of being locked up for so long, the isolation getting to him. Maybe he’s so far gone it’s not even Steve touching him, just a minion and Tony’s wild imagination.

 

The blindfold is too tight, digging into his skin, pressing uncomfortably against his scalp.

 

“What do you want from me,” Tony says.

 

“I want to give you what you want, Tony.” Steve’s voice is warm but cold, like looking into a mirror to find the reflection isn’t you. “It’s your birthday.”

 

_ Give me back the Steve I knew _ , he thinks.

 

He feels a tug on his bound hands and in his hair, gentle like the real Steve would have been. He refuses to get up.

 

A sigh. Then the chair falls away from below him, and he yelps, lands with a grunt on the carpeted floor. Once, this floor was his. Now he grits his teeth as he’s forced onto his knees, face pushed into the fabric. “Don’t be difficult, Tony,” comes the warning growl, like he thought it would. Steve’s breath is hot against his ear, his wandering hands burning like fresh coals from a fire.

 

The touch is like a brand, on his wrists, his chest, everywhere. He hates it, but it’s Steve, so he doesn’t.

 

“Shall we move this to the bedroom?”

 

Tony is suddenly, acutely aware of the HYDRA agents by the door, the guards Steve had sent to summon him. They had been gentle, too.  _ Supreme Leader’s orders were to keep you safe _ , they had said. And he supposes it made sense, to keep the goods intact.

 

Some part of him thinks maybe it’s a complicated plan of Steve’s that he’s not telling anyone, that maybe he’ll bring Tony into the bedroom and lock the door and untie him, and say that he’s sorry. That it was all a misunderstanding. That he’d been mind controlled, replaced by a Skrull,  _ something _ . He tells that part to shut up. There’s no hope for them, for Steve, not anymore.

 

When Tony’s silence stretches past hesitance and pushes into resistance, Steve picks him up. Literally.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?!” He tries to flail, twisting around and kicking at nothing but air. “Let me go! I don’t want anything with you!”

 

“We both know you want it more than anything else. You love him,” Steve says. His voice is tinged with amusement. Affection. “You still do. And you won’t resist, not if it’s me, Tony.” Steve knows him too well. Whatever Steve wants, he gets, right? It’s something Tony promised a long time ago. If only past-him could see how that was biting him in the ass now.

 

Tony says nothing, still. He won’t give Steve the satisfaction of having riled him up. Steve, however, takes that as a cue to keep going. “It’s not too late, you know,” he says. “I can still show you a good time. You can even pretend I’m him - we’re the same person. Same body. Same heart.”

 

Tony snorts.

 

“I mean it, Tony.” Steve’s chest rumbles gently with each word, and it’s not hard to imagine… no. He won’t let this man ruin his memory of Steve.

 

“I love you.” It’s whispered into his ear now, as soft kisses trail down the side of his face, the side of his neck. Sometime in the course of their movement, Steve had adjusted his position, and now there are two hands holding him up by his rear, his arms around Steve’s shoulders, wrists still bound with silk. It’s a compromising position.

 

Steve really had meant it when he’d said to keep Tony unharmed, huh.

 

The hand on Tony’s left buttcheek squeezes, just as a pair of lips presses gently but insistently against his. Tony attempts to simultaneously move away from Steve’s hands and lips, in vain. Instead, he manages to grind against the front of Steve’s uniform pants, drawing out a groan. Steve’s mouth attaches itself onto his neck, sucking and nipping like a leech.

 

“Get. Off. Me.” Tony grits out, breaths coming in harshly through his nose.

 

This isn’t how he imagined his first time with Steve would be.

 

“No,” comes the reply, muffled against the skin of his neck. One of Steve’s hands leaves his ass to curl tightly around his waist, leaving him balanced on just one. “You’re mine, Tony.  _ Mine _ .”

 

Tony can’t help the jolt of arousal that goes through him at those words, the possessive tone. Steve is smirking into his shoulder - he can feel it. “You like that, Tony?” he’s asking, lips and tongue on his neck forcing him to bite back a whimper, even as his brain is screaming  _ nonono wrongwrongwrong _ . 

 

He’s about to yell at Steve to quit it when he is dropped, rather unceremoniously, onto the bed. It’s his bed, in what used to be his room and is now his prison. “You bastard,” he snarls, only to throw his head back and moan when Steve’s hand slips into his loose pyjama pants. Steve’s mouth is on him again immediately - hot tongue tracing veins along his neck. “S- stop,” Tony gasps, and Steve ignores him, biting down on the skin just below his jaw.

 

It’s everything he wanted and not, Steve loving him in all the wrong ways.

 

His shirt is ripped off, torn down the middle like Steve can’t wait. (Maybe he can’t.) Cool air rushes over his heated skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The sound of the door creaking open and slamming shut makes him freeze. “Your cake is here,” Steve murmurs, lips brushing over his now bare shoulder. It’s almost tender, as if Steve were his old self, and not the Supreme Leader of HYDRA. ‘It’s the only way you can have him,’ his traitorous mind says.

 

“Cake?” Tony lets out a shuddering breath, tensing. Is Steve going to force-feed him as some form of torture, or humiliation or something? God, he hopes not.  _ No you don’t, _ a part of him says, and his face burns with shame.

 

“Yeah,” Steve replies as he gets up, off of Tony. He can hear Steve talking quietly to his subordinates. “All of you, out. I want this area clear - if he tries to escape I am more than enough to stop him.”

 

“Hail HYDRA,” the soldiers salute, and then there’s the sound of the door closing.

 

What’s left of Tony’s shirt is pushed off of his shoulders, and the silk around his wrists is cut loose. His hands curl into the sheets, over his head. There’s no attempt at escape - he knows he’s no match for Steve, not in this state. And it’s not as if he doesn’t want this. And if he hates it at the same time he loves it - well, let’s call it karma.

 

“Happy birthday, Tony,” Steve says, pulling the blindfold off. It leaves Tony momentarily blinded, blinking dazedly at the silhouette above. Warm lips meet his in a parody of a kiss as something cold is spread over his chest, making him shiver.

 

“What- what are you doing?!”

 

Steve had said cake, but… Tony definitely hadn’t imagined it this way.

 

Steve is, well, spreading cream onto his chest. And, well - it’s not as if Tony has never dabbled in foodplay, just- Just. He’d never expect Steve to be into… this. Then again, he hadn’t expected that Steve would be into  _ him _ , so there’s really no surprise, there.

**Author's Note:**

> I got too depressed to edit porn, so I'll post the rest of the fic when I'm better.
> 
> Comments are much loved!


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